


Letter - Raven Attack

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [10]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:44:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Mail call is an important part of their lives at Stalag 13, something looked forward to eagerly.  The guys who received letters, while they couldn't predict IF Schultze would look down at that stack of letters in his hand and call out their name, well, if he did, they'd have a pretty good idea who it could be from.  Now, a surprise letter for Sergeant Carter catches everyone off guard, and the reactions are mixed, to say the least!  As Newkirk is prone to say on many occasions where Andrew J Carter is concerned, "oh, bloody 'ell, Andrew!!"





	Letter - Raven Attack

Andrew Carter was excited; the mail had just come, and while he had a letter from his Mom and one from his favorite cousin, and a flyer about a big sale at Perkins Drugstore where he used to work, he also got a letter from someone new! Four whole pieces of mail! Wow, that had to be a record for him!

<>p>He couldn't imagine who would be writing him, the handwriting didn't look familiar at all, but even if it was sent to him by mistake, or from someone trying to sell him something, getting mail was always fun and helped to break up the monotony between roll calls and missions. He read his other letters first, savoring them, folding them away to read again later, even read the flyer, then he picked up the last letter. He opened the letter and read it, puzzled at first, then his eyes got bigger and bigger, and he started giggling.

"'Ere, now, Andrew, w'ot so funny? Your cousin got into some mischief again, 'as 'e?" Peter asked in a somewhat grumpy tone.

Peter wasn't so happy right now; he was still hurting from his encounter with those two very imaginative and resourceful Gestapo agents, Major Hirsch and Fraulein Damueller, he'd had to skip that last mission because he hadn't been able to move very well yet, and to make it worse, he hadn't gotten a letter from his sister Mavis in this batch of mail, though he did get one from Caeide, a nice long one he'd take his own sweet time over reading, before sharing it with the others.

That was best anyway, Peter told himself, then they had something to look forward to between mailcalls; really, though, he just liked to drown himself in her words, her descriptions, let them soak in, before he let anyone else near them. She wrote a lot about what was going on at her farm, Haven, and some about her family; while Peter always said it was a pretty boring lot, Andrew liked hearing the letters when Peter would read them out loud. He also noticed that Peter re-read the letters a lot, for them supposedly being so boring, and kept them all together in his footlocker, along with the ones from his sister that were kept tied with a frayed strip of ribbon, but the ones from Caeide were tied together with a piece of twine in a separate stack, all in order.

Sometimes, in the night, he'd hear the footlocker open, and he'd see Peter take out that stack, untie the piece of twine, and just sit at the table holding it, running his hands over the letters, like he could read them in the dark. Andrew had never asked Peter about it, but once when Peter seemed to feel his eyes on him, had turned and whispered, "Just needed a touch of 'ome, Andrew, that's all. Go back to sleep."

Andrew grinned, "I have a new pen pal, and she sent me a story she wrote. It's pretty good! Want to hear it? It's even got some little drawings with it!" he said excitedly.

"Yeah, alright, Andrew," not quite in the mood, thinking to enjoy his mopes for a bit longer, (not the dismals, of course, that would be dangerous, but just a wistful case of melancoly), but knowing from the shining eyes looking in his direction that Carter would keep nattering away til he was allowed to read the letter; besides, it'd be something new, he thought with resignation, something to take his mind off his own self. The others in the room had all read their own mail, and sat back to hear him read his letter. 

 

***(From Coura O'Dell to Andrew J Carter)

Dear Andrew,

Hello, 

***You don't know me, but two of my sisters say they have met you and they say you are a very nice boy, and I could write to you. Would you be my pen-pal? I have two other pen-pals, and we have lots to write each other about, and it's a lot of fun. But they're both girls too, and besides neither of them like old stories and legends and that sort of thing like I do, and Meg says you do too and might have some that you could write me about. I write stories too, sometimes; I haven't showed them to anyone else, but I'll show them to you.***

The guys groaned and a couple laughed. Okay, Andrew with a penpal who sounded like a little kid. That would work, since Andrew was sometimes like a little kid himself, though he was brave and loyal and, a few of them thought, a lot smarter than he sometimes pretended to be.

***Katy says I should tell you a little about me first. My name is Coura.***

Peter's head jerked up, his eyes suspicious. That wasn't such a common name; in fact, he'd only heard it once before. Combine that with Meg (Meghada, maybe?) and Katy (maybe Caeide?) and this brought a frown of concentration to his face. {"Three of the four sisters; seems like an awfully big coincidence! And that last name, O'Dell? Weren't all that much different, now was it? Didn't the Brat use that name sometimes?"} The hair on the back of his neck was trying to stand up, and he moved his hand to smooth it back down. {"No need to take alarm there, calm back down."} Those little hairs knew better, though.

 

***I know, it's kind of a funny name, and it's short for something really long (I am named after my great-great-grandmother) but most people can't spell it, or say it right, so I just let everyone call me Coura. I am almost thirteen years old and live with my Mom and Dad when I am not going to lessons. I have three older sisters and three older brothers, and one brother the same age as me. We are twins though we don't look alike at all; Mom says that's the way it is sometimes. He looks like my Dad, dark and husky; I look like my Mom and sisters, especially my next oldest sister, Ciena, even down to the red hair and freckles.***

{"Okay, that tore it! There's the last sister's name! Bloody 'ell, what's she up to?"} He got that same shiver of apprehension he usually got when he watched the sisters, any of them, up to mischief, or working relentlessly toward a goal. Sometimes, it was one and the same! Well, he'd plenty of experience with that, a year's worth and more, and he pulled in his shoulders reflexively in order to duck at a moment's notice.

***I like animals, and working in the garden, and reading, and singing and sewing and designing clothes. I do pretty good in school, especially in history, and literature, and what they call cultural anthropology; that last, Mom says is really important, since learning about how other people live and work and think, well, it lets me appreciate my own family's culture even more and understand some of the differences when I meet new people. I'm not very good at math or science, though; my teacher says I keep getting my symbols mixed up. I told them I really don't see any reason why I need to know about all that, but they don't listen to me. Meg and Katy both say you're good at that stuff; you must be really smart as well as being funny and nice, like they say.

I was looking at my list of teachers for this next year and was a little disappointed; there were two I really wanted, Mr. Eastender and Miss Russ, but they both went to work somewhere else; it made me sad, my two oldest sisters and some of my cousins had worked with Mr Eastender and had really liked him and said he was a great teacher, sort of strict in some ways but kind, and very funny. Miss Russ, she taught one of my cousins, and Cally had so many really great stories about her classes, and called her Miss Mary; she was really beautiful too, not just pretty, and she had a voice like a big cat purring!

Still, I'm sure I'll learn a lot this coming year; everyone says this will be one of the years I'll remember most; they're probably right, Meg and Cally both say it was for them. Cally and Katy both, they said it was a year that could change your whole life, and Katy just got a really odd smile on her face when I asked her about it, and said something I didn't understand but she says I will when I get older. I'm not supposed to tell anyone what she said, though. Cally had nodded at what she'd said though, like she agreed.

Here is a story I wrote, Andrew. I call it The Bluebird, The Ravens and The Dragon.

The Bluebird, The Ravens and The Dragon by Coura O'Dell  
(I know, I think I should have really called it The Bluebird, The  
Ravens, The Dragon, and the Dragon's Sister, but my literature  
teacher says sequencing titles work best in threes! What do you  
think, Andrew? Should I change the title?)

Once upon a time there was a bluebird who lived in a forest with lots of other birds and animals. He was a very smart bird, with glossy blue feathers and bright shiny eyes, and had a very pretty voice and could do all kinds of tricks; he was a very brave bird too, and tried to look out for the other birds and animals in his forest to keep them safe, because sometimes the forest could be a dangerous place.***

Andrew said: See, here's the drawing! {It was actually quite good}  
(Tiny illustration of bluebird on a branch, other birds and animals around, accented with colored pencil. The smirk on the bluebird's face was quite clear.)

Peter let out a small groan, {"Oh, no! I'm never gonna live this down!"} he said to himself, his suspicions confirmed. {"I couldn't be a bear or an elk or a mountain lion, or somethin' like that. No, I gotta be a flippin' bluebird!"}, taking a disgruntled look down at his well worn blue RAF uniform. The others looked up at him, at the noise he made, but shrugged when they couldn't see any reason for it, thinking he'd just had a residual pain, and turned their attention back to Andrew and his story.

Peter could have confirmed, yes, he'd just had a pain, though he didn't want to say just where! Though, if he were being honest, he was finding this just a bit amusing. He was hoping that feeling would last, though he'd not make any significant bets on it.

***One day the bluebird was with some of his friends and they saw two big ravens, with a flock of smaller ravens, headed into their forest. Now, the ravens didn't belong in the forest, and the forest creatures followed to see what they were doing there. When the ravens realized they were being followed, they set a trap, and caught the bluebird in it and carried him away. The other birds and animals didn't know where he was and they were very worried, for he was a very good friend and the forest wouldn't be the same without him, and they worried about what those ravens might do to their bluebird.

The boss bird in the forest was a big brown eagle, and almost everyone said he was very smart too in a sneaky kind of a way, which is probably a good thing in a boss bird though maybe not so much in anyone else, and he tried to find the ravens and the bluebird but couldn't. He sent for all the other birds and animals to come up with a plan.***

He held up the page so they could see the drawing. Schultz came over to stand closer so he could see.  
(Tiny illustration of bluebird, upside down in net, being carried by two big black birds)

By now, Kinch and LeBeau were looking at each, remembering their episode with the Gestapo, then they both looked over at Newkirk. LeBeau with questioning eyes, Kinch with growing interest and more than a touch of speculation. Hogan had drifted in from his office to hear more of the story, his brows raised in inquiry. Newkirk was staring at the cigarette he was holding in his hand, like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, studiously not looking at any of the others, his face now slightly pink. Schultz was standing spellbound by the end of Newkirk's bunk, where he'd stayed sipping coffee after he handed out the mail. He was hoping the snow would stop before he had to go back out on patrol, and was hoping he could stay long enough to hear the end of the story.

***A small fox was sitting in the sun at the edge of the forest and saw the ravens take the bluebird away, and he followed to see where they were going. He met a squirrel and when the squirrel asked why he was running so fast, he said, "Those ravens stole the bluebird from the big forest, and I wanted to see where they were taking him," the squirrel said he'd follow too, since he could get high in the trees and maybe see better.

Together they followed the ravens until they found the ravens' nest. They could see the ravens were being very mean to the bluebird, plucking his feathers and beating him with their wings and pecking at him with their sharp beaks, using their hooked claws on him, and lots more!

The fox stayed to keep watch, in case the ravens took him to a different nest, and the squirrel ran, just as fast as he could run, back to the big forest to tell the other birds and animals where the bluebird was and that the ravens were being just nasty to him. Well, that's how ravens are, you know!***

He held up the drawing, and LeBeau let out a nice little snarl of his own at the second one.  
(Tiny illustration of a fox running on the ground, with a squirrel leaping from branch to branch above) followed by (Tiny illustration of a circle of black birds, with two big black birds in the center, looking down at a very bedraggled looking blue bird, staked down at their feet. One of the black birds had blue feathers hanging out of its beak, the other had red drops coming from its beak and falling onto the ground).

{"Bloody right, that's how ravens are! Just 'ope no one shared just w'ot that 'lots more' consisted of, they don't need to know that!"} moving uneasily on the wooden bench. {"Just lucky it was, that between them Andrew and Wilson were farm raised and recognized what that bloody contraption was, in time to get it off me, or I'd be singing soprano by now! As it is, still not up to doing much 'singing' of any kind yet,"} he told himself with a shudder, {"not that there's a lot of opportunity for that sorta thing in 'ere, anyway."} 

***The birds and animals in the forest had gathered together in a big circle to talk about how to find the bluebird when the squirrel ran in to the circle, panting really hard, "I know where the bluebird is, and those mean ravens, too," he told them. Well, they were really mad about how those ravens just came and stole their friend, so they got together and they all went and just stole him right back again! Because they were all very brave and very smart too!

The mean ravens were very upset and searched and searched for the bluebird and his friends but couldn't find them. They swore they would keep looking, though, and that the bluebird and his friends would be very, very sorry!***

The drawing gathered its usual attention.  
(Tiny illustration of variety of animals running, flying toward the forest, blue bird being carried on a stretcher between a big black bear and a rather fierce looking little badger wearing, for some reason, a tiny scarf around his neck).  
Kinch and Louie thought the bear and badger looked rather familiar, actually. 

There wasn't a sound as everyone listened intently to the story as Andrew read it from the letter in front of him. 

***The bluebird went home to the forest and his friends took very good care of him while his feathers grew back, so he was once again a very handsome bird, though he was very sore for awhile.***

{"Still am, for that matter,"} Peter thought with an audible grunt, and moved to get in a more comfortable position, and LeBeau and Kinch gave their handsome bluebird a sympathetic look.

(Tiny illustration of a very sad looking bluebird, sitting up in a bed, with an ice pack on his head and a thermometer sticking out of his beak.). Schultz looked at the illustration, "Newkirk, it looks like you when you got that bad cold a few weeks ago, remember?!" And everyone tensed slightly.

***All of them had to be very careful when they went anywhere in the forest any more, even to get food, because the two big ravens and their flock kept searching for the bluebird. This made life much more difficult for all of them, but the ravens just didn't seem to want to go away and forget about the bluebird and his friends.

One of the bluebird's best friends was a little brown fawn, with wide eyes and a shy smile, though he wasn't smiling so much now with all the worry about his friends and the ravens and everything. The fawn thought and thought, and finally remembered the Dragon that lived at the far side of the valley. He'd met her, and though he knew you were supposed to be afraid of Dragons, he didn't think she was always so scary, though he knew she COULD be if she got angry, because he'd seen her get angry once. She'd been really nice to him, though.

He knew she'd met the bluebird and all his other friends too, and the Dragon had seemed to really like the bluebird, and even had a special nickname for him; in fact, the Dragon's own very best friend was a small bluebird who lived in a different forest, though her sister teased her that he was as much a magpie as he was a bluebird. The Dragon had teased her right back about this generation of the family seeming to have a certain weakness for bluebird magpies types, and the sister laughed, blushed and had agreed.

The fawn had met the Dragon's sister too, who didn't seem to be a Dragon at all, but some other type of creature entirely, maybe a wolf, which he thought was very strange, and he wanted to ask about that, but didn't; being a very polite fawn, he knew it wasn't nice to ask personal questions about someone's family. The sister knew their bluebird too, and the fawn remembered seeing that she smiled at him in a special way, different than when she smiled at the fawn or any of the others. Anyway, he thought the Dragon and her sister wouldn't be very happy to hear about the ravens attacking the bluebird, and he decided he would just send a message and tell them about it!*** 

Carter tilted his head to look at the next illustration, a sketch of a speckled fawn, eyes twice as big as usual for a fawn, a shy smile and an amazing look of innocence on its face. Peter took a look, and couldn't help the wide, warm smile of recognition at the sight of the drawing.

By now, eyes were getting bigger, eyebrows high, and the glances getting sharper, the attention moving back and forth between Andrew and Newkirk, with an occasional quick glance at the Colonel. Andrew had a look of intense pleasure on his face as he continued reading.

Peter had now finished his cigarette, and was apparently trying to drown himself in his cup of coffee, his face was so close to it, his eyes clinched shut, shaking his head a little bit. It looked kinda like he was getting a headache too, the way he was rubbing his forehead with one hand. The coffee must have been really hot, since his face was turning red from being so close to it. Hogan had a growing frown on his face; Schultz had a huge smile of enjoyment at the tale he was hearing.

***The fawn was right, of course, the Dragon and her sister were NOT happy about the ravens and the way they had treated the bluebird. The Dragon sharpened her bright claws, and polished her pointy teeth and her long ivory fangs, and shook out her wings, letting out a loud hiss, heard all across the valley; her sister herded her flock of sheep into the pasture and set her big dog to looking after them, while she took off her apron and set aside her garden shears, made sure her own claws were in proper shape, for she didn't use them as often as the Dragon used hers, though she always kept her teeth and fangs nice and sharp, pulled on her long furry coat, and gave a deep snarl that frightened everyone who heard it, and they went in search of the ravens.

The Dragon flew across the valley, her sister riding between her huge wings. They found the ravens, and gave them a very stern talking to about being so mean to the bluebird and his friends.***

This drew a snicker or two. Even Newkirk gave a bit of a chuckle.

(Small illustration of flying dragon, with wolf perched between her wings). Peter thought that wolf looked an awful lot like that big red furry dog that had run loose in the alley behind Maude's pub that year Caeide had been with them. It had been an affectionate beast, and he'd always hoped it had found a good home; it had disappeared and he'd never seen it again after Caeide had gone home. He'd tried to get the two of them together, thinking she could take it with her when she went home, her being so fond of animals, but never could. He shook his head and brought his wandering mind back to the story Andrew was reading.

***The ravens just laughed and said they could do whatever they wanted, just because they were ravens, and they weren't scared of the Dragon and her sister, and that the bluebird and his friends has just better beware; that they were going to catch them all and then they'd all be really sorry!

Needless to say, the Dragon and her sister weren't too happy with that answer! While the fawn hadn't been afraid of the Dragon, that was probably because the Dragon liked the fawn, and hadn't shown her teeth or her fangs, except in a very nice way when she had smiled at him. She didn't like the ravens, and her sister liked them even less; so when they showed the ravens their teeth and fangs and claws, it wasn't in a very nice way at all.

Well, when the Dragon and her sister left to go back home, the ravens had been thoroughly plucked, and cleaned, and prepared for roasting, (which is the only proper way to fix ravens, you know). The Dragon took a claw from the boy raven; her sister took one from the girl raven. The sister even scratched her sign on the two ravens, because that was what tradition called for. When they got back to their side of the valley, the Dragon's sister took a long strand of wool from her very own sheep and braided it into two cords, and attached the claws, and hug them up to dry in the smoke from the fire in her home. Later the claws would be hung in the trophy room at the big castle where the elders of their family lived, as a reminder that it was unwise to offend the Dragon's family and their friends. Theirs was an old, old family, and the trophy room had a lot of such reminders in it, and not just claws, either.***

(Tiny illustration of two large plucked and trussed birds, on a spit, over a fire just ready to be lit)

***And every morning and every night, when the Dragon and her sister said their prayers, they included special ones for the bluebird and the fawn and their friends, that they might be safe from any more bad ravens. And they kept their claws and teeth and fangs sharp, just in case they'd be needed again.

The End***

Hogan was staring hard at Andrew, wanting to ask him some very pointed questions, but couldn't while Schultze was there. 

Schultz was still smiling that huge smile, "Ach, Carter, I like that story! And she draws so good too! Are you going to write her back? She sounds like a very nice little girl, and oh, what an imagination! Those mean ravens!" He shook his head disapprovingly at the actions of those birds. "If she sends you other stories, will you let me listen when you read them to the others?"

"Yeah, Schultzie," Andrew said with a broad smile of his own, though casting a slightly apprehensive look at his commanding officer, "I think I'll write her back; and if she sends any more stores, I'll share them." Schultze finished his coffee and left, still smiling over the Bluebird, the Ravens and the Dragon (and the dragon's sister!).

Hogan stood looking at Andrew for a long time, then at Newkirk, then turned to Kinch. "Kinch, get on the radio, try to find out what you can about Major Hirsch and Fraulein Damueller, as much current information as you can, as quickly as you can." He looked at Newkirk, who was NOT looking back, again at Andrew, who was looking at him with those big innocent brown eyes. "I'll be in my quarters; let me know when you have something," not quite slamming the door, but there was a certain crispness to the sound as it closed.

Kinch paused by the bunk before releasing it to go down below, to listen as LeBeau looked over at Peter, and said, "Do you think it possible, Pierre?"

Peter groaned, "With that lot, Louie, who knows? And, Andrew, don't you go thinking of Coura as a little girl, never mind that pretend little-girl voice in 'er letter; that's put on for show! Yeah, she's almost thirteen, at least as best I remember she'd be about that, but that's the age they start their Internship; that's the age Caeide was when she came to London. Took all me bloody concentration that year, making meself see 'er as a child, when I knew bloody well that's not w'at she was, not really. Bloody dangerous, is w'at she was, in all kinda ways," he suddenly shook his head and snickered. "Once things quiet down, I'll tell you about that year; think I aged a good ten years in 'er company!" and shook his head again and gave a rueful laugh. "Yeah, Louie, I thinks it's more 'n possible!"

Kinch came back up into the barracks about an hour later, eyes wide, his face having a very strange look on it, "Andrew, get the Colonel, will you?" He poured himself a cup of coffee, and lit a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly; though he wasn't all that much for smoking as a rule, there were times that just called for it. He wasn't much of a one for drinking either, but he wouldn't have much minded a shot of whiskey right now. When Hogan came out and leaned against the doorframe, saying "Well?" Kinch searched for the right words. When they didn't come, and the Colonel was showing his impatience, he figured to just tell it straight out.

"Underground says the reason we've not heard from those two over the past few weeks is, well, they seem to have met with a little 'accident'." He took another sip of the coffee, and Hogan said, impatiently, "such as?"

Kinch looked up at the Colonel, reluctantly, "Well, no one knows exactly. They were found in front of the house they'd commandeered, stripped, trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys, throats slit. Oh, and each of them was missing the right index finger." He looked down at his cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled shakily, "there was some talk they might have been missing a few other things too, but no one could confirm that, the bodies having been carted off by the Gestapo real fast, so that's just rumor so far. The theory going around is that it was part of a clash with another Nazi unit, since a symbol was supposedly scratched in each of their foreheads, sort of looked like a wolfs head, they said. Anyway, it's caused some infighting among the Gestapo and the Abwehr, different units blaming each other, and a few of their officers seem to have vanished mysteriously because of that. Anyway, we won't be seeing those two around here again, obviously!"

Silence, as everyone looked around at everyone else, all except Newkirk, who'd lit another cigarette and was smoking it, eyes shut tight, shaking his head slightly to and froe. While he was more than glad to know that pair weren't running around playing their painful games anymore, and that they didn't have to worry about them showing up at the gate some fine day claiming him or one of the others for another little round of fun, that whole report was just a bit disturbing, especially since he could envision it happening, all of it. He could even imagine the expressions that would have been on the faces of the 'Dragon' and the 'Wolf'; he'd seen that in London, when he'd first met Caeide. {'Well,'} he thought to himself, {'I'm kinda 'opin' the 'few other things,' is just a rumor; that's just too bloody much!"} Then, he thought of what he'd endured, what could have happened, he moved uneasily on the hard bench, and his face grew cold and hard, {"still, don't know that I'd lose any sleep over it, even if it is true!"}

"Do you want to explain just how the 'Fawn' got a message to the, uh, 'Dragon', Carter? Or was it the 'Bluebird' who got the message out?" There was no give in Hogan's voice, those weren't really questions, but a commanding demand for information.

Andrew looked up, eyes huge, "Peter had nothing at all to do with it, boy, uh, Colonel, Sir, well" he paused, "except for the being captured and tortured and all that," as Newkirk was heard to mutter, "Yes, except for all that, acourse!"

"Well, Sergeant? I'm waiting," Hogan grated out.

"Well, Sir, I knew Rene knew how to get in touch, so when I picked up those radio parts, I asked him if I could send a message, and he let me, and, well, that's about all there is to it."

"You sent a radio message, using names, telling the whole story, is that right, Sergeant Carter? Did you think about who might have been listening, what they might have learned about our operation?"

"Oh, it wasn't like that," Carter explained earnestly. "See, they speak several of the Indian languages, Sioux, Apache, Comanche, I think maybe Cherokee. I figured the chances of anyone overhearing being able to understand Lakota Sioux would be just about zero," the young man nodded reassuringly.

Hogan stood staring at him, unable to think of a response. The whole room waited, waiting for Carter to do it, to put his foot straight into his mouth, as usual. Then, it happened.

"She's really a very nice girl, Colonel, they both are," Carter said earnestly, nodding sincerely, while Hogan just stared at him in disbelief.

"You mean aside from the slitting people's throats and cutting off their fingers, and maybe 'a few other things', right, Carter?"

"Uh, yes sir, aside from that," with a weak grin. Newkirk just gave out another low groan and bounced his head against the wooden table a few times. Well, at least that took his mind off his other aches and pains!


End file.
